


Fire in the Ice

by TheAndorianMiningConsortium



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Violence, traumatising childhood event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAndorianMiningConsortium/pseuds/TheAndorianMiningConsortium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Enterprise, Shran mentioned how when he was a child he suffered an accident and was severely injured.  I decided to write out that traumatic childhood memory in more detail. (I wouldn't call this 'graphic', but it might be slightly upsetting for some especially since he is a child in it)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire in the Ice

The wind whistled quietly, and softly rattled the icicles as it wended its way down the tunnel. The boy hugged his coat around him, and continued on his journey. The ice in the tunnel was cold- chillingly cold, desperately cold, cold to the point where he felt like he might actually freeze and become a statue if he stood in one spot for more than a second. But that was part of what made it so exciting. The numbness in his hands, even with two pairs of gloves each with heating pads sewn into the seams, the fact that he couldn’t feel his face, could barely even feel his own antennae, which had gone almost totally stiff in this chill... it was exciting, invigorating. Intoxicating, even.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to be out this late and nor was he supposed to go this far from the province. His fathers and mothers would be livid when he returned home. He could hear their voices in his imagination right now: “Where have you been?” they would ask. “What are you thinking of, going out into the ice alone?” And it gave him cause to smile. Disobedience, as it had been drilled into him again again, was a thing to be abhorred. Failing to honour the wishes of one's family, as dishonourable a thing as could possibly be imagined. And yet, the temptation to break the rules was undeniable, irresistible. It enticed him. The thrill of going where one is not supposed to go, the excitement in that knowledge that he might be caught any second, might be caught and punished harshly for his disobedience... it was too inviting  _not_ to disobey.

And thus, despite the cold, his heart was beating fast, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he climbed the rocks and made his way through the thin tunnels and slabs of rock that paved the route from the city to the surface. He had gone out here many times, trying his luck, seeing how far he dared to go before fear of being caught outweighed the thrill of it all, turned him around and lead him back home before anyone could notice he was gone...

But never had he been  _this_ far! He could almost taste the sunlight. The sunlight that he had heard so many stories about, but never actually seen for himself... he caught his breath.  _Exciting._ He trembled with anticipation and a rush of thick adrenaline. It drew him on.

He caught something, the soft glimmer of a faint vibration in the air, and with effort he swivelled one stiff antennae around. There was something there, he thought, he could just about detect it, but exactly where it was and what it represented... he could not for the life of him begin to guess. He was far too cold, and the deathly low temperature which stiffened his joints also dulled his senses. He peered in the direction of whatever it was that he had detected, fixating his eyes on a point in the icy ceiling, blinking as he tried to see what had moved, but he saw nothing but endless empty walls of ice and rock.

_Oh, well,_ the boy thought.  _Probably just a bit of ice falling from the ceiling. Nothing to worry about._ He moved on, crunching one booted foot after the other through the ice encrusted tunnel. Perhaps he should turn back. Yes, perhaps he  _should_ turn back, for if he died up here no one would find him. The thought struck him with a sudden pang of dread- what if he slipped and fell? No one would ever know. They'd find his skeleton when next they made the summer journey to the surface... or perhaps it was cold enough up here that his body would be perfectly preserved. Yes, probably.

What if he  _did_ turn back now? If he moved quickly then he could be home before he was missed. Yes, good idea. Then he picked up that vibration again, and slowly, fighting against the cold that threatened to freeze him in his place, he creaked his tiny body around.

And then he saw it. A speck of light glimmering off one of the shining stalactites that hung from the tunnel's roof.  _What was that_ ? He took another step, moving in for a closer look, but the tiny light danced elusively off the edge of the ice. After a few moments, he realised that it was a reflection from something else.

He looked around, and was just in time to see something dropping from the ceiling. Something that was small and soft and wriggled... and it was  _hot_ . He could feel the heat resonating off the thing, like a little fire wiggling in the snow. He realised belatedly that it was an ice bore. An invertebrate that made its home in the rock and ice, generating its own body heat through a complicated chemical reaction that he had learnt about in school but paid little attention to.

He stepped away from it, quickly. He knew those things could be dangerous. Had heard enough horror stories about ice miners being burned, that he had learned to be cautious. He must not go anywhere near it, for if it touched him, his skin would melt away and then he would burn, too. He'd once seen a man that had touched an ice bore. That man had been left with half a finger because of that encounter.

The boy moved away, his backward step drawing him off the edge of the rocky path, and the ice began to crumble under his foot. Alarmed, he stepped back again, swiftly, and he felt the snow beneath him give way. Suddenly he was sinking. Alarmed afresh now, heart suddenly pounding as his breath caught in his throat, he tried to jump off, get back to the solid rock path and find his footing, but it was too late. He lost his balance, and the snow caved in, and then he found himself dropping, falling, falling, hands and feet frantically scrabbling to try and get some kind of purchase on the edge of the pit that he was sinking into, try and pull himself back to safety.... but down he went, powerless to prevent it.

He was in another cave, a cave that was no bigger than himself, hollowed smoothly out of snow... and still he was falling. He fell about a metre down, bit it felt like a much greater distance than that. And then he felt a sudden searing wash of firy agony directly in the base of his neck, as though stung by the edge of a burning blade. He let out a yelp, jerked his head away, only to feel another prod, this time on the shoulder, and another, at the elbow. Then before he could register what was happening, he was being prodded all over, as though with a hundred tiny red hot pokers, each one branding a touch of fire into the surface of his flesh with their burning ends. The heat was intolerable, even more so after the snow. He was so hot that he couldn't tell if he was too cold or too hot. All he knew was that he was tingling all over with an intolerable pain that compared to nothing that he had ever experienced in his life... he saw white... and someone was screaming. A shrill scream that danced between his ears, deafening him even as thick hot tears rolled down his face. After a second or so, he realised that the scream was his own.

He had fallen into a nest of ice bores. Hidden mere centimetres beneath the surface of the ground, he had fallen in and now the swarm had amassed upon him. As he realised this – logic, somehow, blundering its way through the pain and the torment and reaching into his head in spite of the blind agony – he realised that he must escape, _now_ , or he would die here. He would die and no one would ever know. The fears and warnings that he had never really taken seriously, suddenly became a reality that was brutally thrust upon him. Panic gripped him, and somewhere amongst all the burning and screaming another thought slipped its way through his skull: _if I don't die, mother's going to kill me._

When asked about it later, he wouldn't remember climbing up and out of the ice bore nest. He wouldn't remember heaving his small, burning body forwards, forcing himself through a sea of wriggling creatures all of which seemed intent on stabbing him with their flaming tails. Wouldn't remember gripping the rocks with shaking, desperately clutching hands that didn't want to obey him. He wouldn't remember heaving and tumbling over the top of the snow-covered pit and feeling the sickening scrape of the rocks against his charred flesh. Wouldn't remember tumbling back over the top of the nest, and rolling in the snow, the agony as its cold soft wetness soothed the burning and doused the flames and his slender weight killed the few ice bores that still clung to him, burning him afresh as their flames gave out under the pressure of his body. He would not remember screaming and screaming again, until his lungs hurt and his voice gave out. He wandered home – somehow dredging up the strength to do so from somewhere deep within. A primal survival instinct, his mind would rationalise, years later, when he was grown. That was the only explanation he could think of. And as he walked in a daze back to the city, clothes hanging off his charred little body in sorry black tatters, every glisteningly burnt sore agonizing as the cool air breathed its way across his skin, he wouldn't remember the aftermath of the pain. But get home, he did, and when he tumbled through the door, he was safe once again.

A lesson was learnt that day, one that embedded itself deep within him to the point where nothing short of brute force could ever force it out. Thy'lek Shran never disobeyed again.


End file.
